


Fortune's Fool

by PaperbackTrash



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-15
Updated: 2018-05-06
Packaged: 2019-01-17 17:01:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12370119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaperbackTrash/pseuds/PaperbackTrash





	1. Chapter 1

_Did my heart love till now? Forswear it, sight! For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night._

Kelda was going out of her mind. She had never been one for formal affairs and the crowd that surrounded her, although small for the moment, was overwhelming her entirely. A servant had informed her and her parents that they were among the first guests and the first Court to arrive. Her pale blue corseted dress seemed far too tight as her nerves began to build. She longed to be at home, in the comfort of her manner, strolling around the spread of garden that surrounded it. Peaceful, tranquil and safe. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to be here, she had been excited about this day since it had been announced. She was very fond of Lucien and his bride to be, in fact they were they only people outside her home she had ever visited, she just wished that the event could have been smaller. Her father had warned her about what to expect today, warned her of the extravagance and raucousness that could only be the work of the High Lord of Day. Looking around the lavish room, she began to understand exactly what he meant. Gold adorned every surface available. It was lovely, but too much. All of this was too much. She had never met Helion, or any other High Lord for that matter, but her father had educated her well in the politics and histories of other Courts. She would be able to name each High Lord, their Court and their powers. Her father had certainly made sure of that.

Behind her, her father paced anxiously waiting to be seated for the ceremony. He looked very respectable in his emerald green tunic, the golden trim of it accented his blonde hair perfectly. Kelda could feel the waves of anxiousness emanating from his body, it only made her more on edge. She knew that if she looked she would able to see the shadows of claws trying to break their way free. It was something that she inherited from him, not just the ability to shift, but the temper, the white hot rage constantly ready to burst. Her mother snorted as she watched her father circling aimlessly.

“Tamlin, please. You’re going to wear a hole in Helion’s carpet and I can’t be bothered to deal with the argument of who is going to pay for it.” Her mother said teasingly.

Her mother was the opposite to her father. Fiery where he was serene but cool and collected where his temper and nerves flared. They were perfect for each other Kelda thought, a harmonious balance between serious and fun, anger and passion. Tamlin stopped his infernal pacing immediately taking his wife into his arms. Before the pair embraced in a manner that would only lead to their daughter gagging, a familiar and comforting voice sounded from behind them.

“Tam, you made it.” Lucien exclaimed bracing his old friend before turning to her mother. “Vassa, you look as splendid as ever.” He continued bowing deeply.

Lucien’s remaining eye focussed on Kelda and a smile spread across her face. His answering smile was warm and comforting. She truly had always loved Lucien.

“I’m glad you were able to come too, little one.”

“I had to wear him down a little bit.” Kelda replied pointing to Tamlin.

It was the truth, her father had always been a tad overprotective of her and she had spent months arguing with him until he finally allowed her to accept the invitation.

“I try not to take her out in public too often Lucien, people may question her parentage.” Tamlin gestured to her fiery red hair and then to Lucien’s own.

Whilst the unruly flame of hair that cascaded down her back was certainly from her mother’s genes, they all still laughed.

“It has been known to happen in my family.” Lucien jibbed back.

The three of them spoke of life and politics while Kelda uneasily assessed the room that was filling far too quickly for her liking. Lucien excused himself as another male with glowing bronze skin arrived accompanied by a beautiful winged man. Kelda had never seen such beauty on other fae before. She was enchanted.

“Thesan and his partner.” Her father whispered in her ears.

As the other courts began to arrive Tamlin dutifully named each High Lord for her, her mind cataloguing their faces against the facts she had already been taught so well. She looked in awe as each High Lord arrived, all devastatingly beautiful in their own way. Tarquin with his perfect skin and beautiful eyes, yet still young and mostly untested. Kallias who embodied his court perfectly, and his wife whose council he sought most. Eris, the newest High Lord, whose cruel face was still striking. Kelda knew all about every single one of them, and for that she was grateful. Scanning the room she wondered where the Night Court were. She didn’t tell her father as she knew of the evil of the Night Court and the strained relations between her people and theirs. Yet, she wanted to see her, the High Lady, the first and only High Lady. Still examining the hall, she saw her father stiffen beside her.

The High Lord and Lady of the Night court were mesmerising. Darkness coiled off Rhysand in tendrils that kissed his wife’s body. Their faces were indifferent, if not slightly cruel and the expression made her look away sharply. Her eyes travelled to the male beside the High Lady. Young she realised, perhaps her age or a few years older. His face bore the same expression as the couple stood beside him, the features an uncanny and breath-taking blend of the two. Their son she realised. The male looked positively bored, the countenance made her bristle. It was completely rude and improper to enter somebodies home with that level of insolence radiating from you. He was beautiful though, his raven black hair catching the light in a way that made it look as if the light sought him out, wanted to be near him. She could admit that he was very handsome indeed, but he looked overly self-assured and utterly insufferable. Just as she had been taught the Night Court would act. Yes Kelda was well versed in the subject of the Prythian Courts, and because of her fine education she knew exactly who to associate herself with today and exactly who to avoid. Despite her knowledge and sensible nature, despite knowing the horrors and violence of the Night Court, she couldn’t stop looking at him. She wanted to go over there, to yell at him, to tell him to be less rude. To touch that odd hair. Violet eyes met hers as his gaze bore into here. Something that lived deep within her, something she did not know existed, shattered.


	2. Chapter 2

_My only love sprung from my only hate! Too early seen unknown, and known too late!_

Assessing the room with a hawk’s gaze, Arvan immediately decided he didn’t want to be here. He liked Lucien, thought him pleasant enough if not slightly mild mannered, and he didn’t mind Briar, despite her sheepish and apologetic nature. He just didn’t want to be here. Especially when his mother had just grabbed his arm and winnowed him out of the House of Wind just as Amren and Cassian we’re clearly about to fight. Arvan guessed it was best that Amren had declined her invitation to be here today, her hatred of large crowds was always his excuse. Besides, his mother had said they all must be on their best behaviour, yet he couldn’t shake the thought of how epic that battle would have been. His hands slid into his pocket, a trait he had learned from his father years before, as he took a step away from his mother and into the sprawling crowd. It did not escape his attention that nearly every eye was focussed on them. Not him exactly, but his parents. The evil rulers of the Night Court who would steal your children, with barbarian guards and wicked females being their favoured company. Arvan scoffed at the idea. He knew many of the High Lord’s here today and knew that they did not share this opinion, save for perhaps the High Lords of Spring and Autumn, yet it was a perception his father had asked his friends to maintain to their courts, in public at least. Although it wasn’t entirely clear to him, he partially understood why his father would want this. The story of the breaching of Velaris had been told to him many times as a child. The thought of that beautiful, exceptional city, his home, being reduced to rubble was enough to make him want to go along with the charade too, to wear the mask of arrogant torturer. He would do it, for his family, for his people, for Velaris. Ensuring that mask was firmly in place now, his eyes focussed back to the gathering before him, and he saw her.

The female’s shockingly green eyes fixed on him. Her fire red hair cascaded around her shoulders, she was beautiful. Not in the classical way that you saw in paintings and on sculptures, but uniquely. Without words those eyes told him everything. Told him that she was fierce and proud and unafraid.  _Unafraid._  Arvan was not used to that gaze. People feared him everywhere he went outside of his home. Feared what powers he had inherited from his ridiculously talented parents. They needn’t be. Although he was able to detect the powers that dwelled beneath the skin of others, something Amren believed was because of his mother’s strange rebirth. He had not been gifted with any of the powers his mother had stolen from the other Courts, his father told him this was because they were not Feyre’s gifts to give. It was true that he was daemati and a skilled warrior, but this was due to extensive training, he couldn’t even winnow. Arvan’s attention snapped back to the alluring female, those gemstone eyes fixing his in place.

“Don’t think about it.” Azriel’s deep shadowy voice warned in his ear, quiet enough to not alert his parents.

Feigning innocence he turned to his uncle of sorts.

“What have I done?” He smiled playfully.

“Nothing, yet” Cassian mused from his other side, cocking an eyebrow.

“She’s the daughter of spring.” Azriel continued.

Arvan felt it then, the animal that lurked in her soul, that unnatural strength that roiled in her veins. Knowing fully what the High Lord of Spring thought of his family and his people, he knew that he needed to stay away. Yet, he couldn’t stop looking at her, at the fierce spark in her eyes that didn’t hint at panic or fear, just loathing and something else. Something he couldn’t place. For once he understood the way his mother saw the world, in colours and shapes. He didn’t possess any of her artist talent but gazing at this female, the daughter of spring, he wished he could paint her. He couldn’t avert his stare, didn’t want to.

“Look elsewhere.” Azriel warned again.

Inhaling deeply Arvan broke eye-contact, and was immediately hit by her scent. The smell of juniper berries and fresh grass consumed him entirely. He knew that she was the source, could feel it deep within him. Some ancient instinct inside of him shifted, forcing his entire being to look at her, be close to her. Without even looking he became keenly aware of every moment she made. Fire began to burn through his body, urging him closer to her. His feet began to move of their own accord.  _Bad idea, bad idea,_ the sensible voice in his head began to chant. Cauldron damn him though, he didn’t care. He didn’t care what common sense told him, what Azriel had warned him. A firm hand wrapped around his shoulders holding him in place.

“Tamlin will kill you kid.” Cassian laughed humorously.

As if he heard, the High Lord of Spring’s head turned to face them. There was no hatred on his face, just distaste. Arvan noticed his eyes, the same green as his daughters but dull somehow, like he had never recovered from a pain felt long ago. Tamlin smiled toward them, no at Cassian, a terrible and vicious display of teeth that said more than any words could have.  _I dare you to say anything today._  The smile had told them. He hadn’t seen his father move, but before he could blink his view was obscured by Rhysand, a small growl building in chest.

“Rhys.” His mother hissed.

“He’s threatening our son.” Rhys retorted.

The tension between them was palpable. Arvan didn’t know exactly what had transpired between the Night and Spring Court, just that, long ago, family had been lost on both sides as a result of this feud. As if the room were able to sense the growing pressure within it, the doors to ceremony room swung open on a phantom wind.

The ceremony was pleasant enough Arvan supposed, if not too long. However his focus was not on the bride or groom and their exchanged vows, he could not see anything other than flame red hair placed on the other side of the room. He picked at his food during the meal, not knowing if she was still here or had left already, distraction driving him to insanity. That’s when he saw her again, gracefully making her way from the dining area. Alone. Seizing the opportunity, Arvan hastily excused himself from the table fully aware of Azriel marking his every move. Taking a different door than she had he was led into the expansive tropical garden of the Day Court manor, he spotted her leaning on a rail, head tilted toward the sun. Being this close to her again made the ancient part of him stir once more. Slowly, so painfully slowly, he bridged the gap between stopping within a foot next her.

“Miss?” He said tentatively.

She turned to him and claws exploded from her hands. He beamed at her.


	3. Chapter 3

_Wisely and slow; they stumble that run fast._

The cocky, arrogant grin plastered across the male’s face made her blood boil, but not in the way she had been expecting. Kelda waited, just stood there and waited for the familiar anger to fill her bones, but it didn’t come. Anticipation roiled in her at the proximity to him, her heart was pounding and she knew he could hear it too. She could feel the claw like talons that had unsheathed themselves at her hands, it was an instinct she had little control over. Her eyes lifted to meet his and she was struck by a sense of other worldliness. She had seen plenty of males, been infatuated with them, wanted them, but this face, his face was something else. His face held an ethereal beauty that made her want to look away and keep staring all at once. His eyes that were so blue they looked violet had fixed her in place. All thought, all sense of self-preservation had left her. She didn’t know this male, save for the wretched place he was born, she should be running, screaming, fighting, anything. Common sense had told here these things were a good idea, were the sensible idea yet, she stood there lost in those unusual eyes.

“Arvan.” He said extending a hand.

The sound of his voice, low and sensual, pulled her from her reverie.

“What?” She sounded more abrupt than she intended.

The tone in her voice unhinged him slightly, the arrogant demeanour immediately wiped from his face.

“My name, it’s Arvan.” He looked toward his still out stretched hand hanging awkwardly between them.

She was shocked when a laugh escaped her.

“I know it’s a ridiculous name but you don’t have to laugh to my face.” He said feigning mock hurt.

“I’m sorry.” She replied slightly breathily.

This had not been what she was expecting. In truth she didn’t know what she had expected but this wasn’t it. She saw no evil or malice surrounding him. He did not smell like death and decay but like jasmine and a crisp twilight breeze. She laughed again. This was absurd, here before her was the Prince of Darkness himself, the son of two of the most powerful and cruel fae in history, gawking at her with his hand clumsily floating in the air.  

“Okay, now I know it’s not that ridiculous.” Genuine concern laced his voice now.

“I truly am sorry.” She began “I just wasn’t anticipating you being so…”

“Charming, handsome, beautiful.” He interjected.

“Inelegant.” She offered.

He looked truly offended now.

Arvan had believed he was well skilled in the art of speaking to females. After all he had learned from the best, his Aunt Elain. Cassian had tried many times, too many times, to have that particular conversation with him, but it was Elain who he went to with matters of the heart. Elain had taught him to be respectful, courteous and to listen, to act like Azriel. It was advice that had never failed him. Until now. He had been called many things in his nineteen years, but _inelegant_ had never been one. He couldn’t understand why she was laughing at him, all he knew was that it sounded like a wind-chime and he never wanted her stop. Those emerald eyes of hers were bright and alive. A part of him, a part he didn’t understand, shone with pride that he had made that happen, made her face light up and glow. Even if it was his expense. He found he couldn’t be mad her. He did not know this female, only that there was something there, an invisible tether that pulled him to her.

“Are you going to tell me your name or just keep laughing at me?” He asked, voice sounded more petulant than he would have liked.

The words only sent her into further fits of giggles. Completely baffled he stared down at her, waiting for her to stop, to say something. She turned from him, gripping the rail to compose herself as he waited. And waited. The silence, save for her quieting laughs, was driving him insane. An overwhelming need to know what she was thinking came over him. His mind expanded, invisible fingers bridged the gap between them, caressing at her skull until the delved into her thoughts, and were met with a vicious wall of thorns. The contact was enough to hurt him as his mind snapped back into his own.

“Don’t you ever do that again.” Her voice was quiet and brutal. So at odds with the chiming of her laugh he had heard only moments before.

“You’re daemati.” It wasn’t a question as much as an assumption.

“No, just well skilled in keeping away people like you.” She spat at him.

“I’m sorry, I just…”

“Just think it’s acceptable to raid somebody else’s thoughts.” She interjected.

“No. I just.” He struggled to find the words. “There’s just something about you.”

She looked at him now, her gemstone eyes piercing through him as if she could read his mind without having the magic to do so.

“I don’t know what it is, and I don’t think I can explain it. When I saw you just then, before the ceremony, I felt like I knew you, like my soul knew you.”

He realised he was babbling but he couldn’t stop himself. Something about her made him want to explain everything. The anger he saw on her face drained, leaving only curiosity and something else. Something he hadn’t seen before.

“I feel it too.” She admitted.

“Kelda.” A voice called from the distance.

“Shit.” She breathed.

“Kelda? Your name is Kelda?” Arvan asked.

Not that she was ever going to admit it, but the sound of her name coming from his deep sumptuous voice sent a shiver down her spine. The feeling soon dissolved when she heard her father call once more.

“Kelda.”

Her head whipped toward the source of the sound.

“Right, now listen to me.” She said pointing a finger at Arvan’s chest. “That’s my father calling me and he is not going to like me speaking you. However, luckily for you I am not ready to end this conversation. I want to figure out what this is.” She gestured between the two of them. “We’re both going to winnow out of here to Lucien’s house, you know where that is yes?”

Arvan looked reluctant.

“I can’t winnow.” His voice was quiet and she heard pain in those few words.

“Shit.” She said again. “I’m not strong enough to winnow us both yet.”

She began pacing trying to form an idea before her father figured out where she was.

“KELDA.” Tamlin’s voice was becoming more frantic now.

Feeling eyes bore into her she turned to Arvan, a wide smile spread across his devastatingly beautiful face.

“Do you trust me?” He asked, that arrogance returning.

“I don’t know you.” She looked at him assessing. He seemed genuine though she decided. “I guess.”

“Close enough.” He replied as mighty membranous wings appeared at his back.

_Illyrian_ she remembered. His father was part Illyrian.

“Yes!” She exclaimed. “Flying will definitely work.”

Why hadn’t she thought of that? She felt excited. Alive. She had only defied her father a few times in her eighteen years but this felt different. Reckless.

Arvan offered his hand to her beckoning her forward. She stared at it.

“I’ll carry you.” He told her.

She snorted.

“Honey, I’ve got this covered.”

Stepping back, her body became shrouded by a blinding golden light. And she was gone. In her place a marvellous golden bird stood where she had once been. Arvan’s mouth dropped open.

The bird was beautiful; he had never seen anything like it. It’s feathers flickered in the sunlight like a living flame. It’s eyes fixed on Arvan. Not black bird’s eyes, but dazzling green ones. He huffed a laugh at her, she truly was exquisite. Before he could open his mouth she shot into the sky. Every movement was graceful, like a beautiful well-rehearsed dance. He watched her glide overhead for a few more heartbeats before his wings beat and he was following her.


	4. Chapter 4

_Parting is such sweet sorrow that I shall say goodnight till it be morrow._

Kelda had shifted back into her fae body before her talons had touched the ground. The sun beat down on her as she assessed her surroundings. Lucien’s garden truly reflected the time he had spent with her father in the Spring Court. Flowers bloomed in a rainbow of colours around the well kempt lawn, the scent of them reminded her pleasantly of home. A light thud sounded behind her and despite herself her heart stuttered. Turning slowly, she tried to master her breathing again before speaking to him. What an odd sensation this was, to feel so deeply for a male she did not know yet. His back was to her, those enchanting wings flared out behind him as if he was sunning them. A small breathy laughed escaped her and his head whipped toward the noise.

“Are you laughing at me again?” he said cocking an eyebrow.

“No, I’m sorry. I just always thought of Illyrians are cold brutes. Not faeries who shamelessly sunned their wings.”

“Firstly, believe me they are. Secondly, I’m only one quarter Illyrian. Thirdly, it just feels so good.” his wings spread out wide as if to emphasis his point.

 _So strange,_ she thought. The male before her was so at odds with everything she had been taught, everything she had come to expect from the citizens of the Night Court, let alone a potential future High Lord. Not that she had ever known any, she mused.

“Arvan.” she said testing his name.

His violet eyes sparkled at the sound of it.

“Arvan” she continued but paused.

The splendour of him tumbled into her. He was darkness and night brought to flesh, but there was something about him. Maybe it was the sun shining down, or this beautiful garden but he looked like he was glowing. He looked like starlight.

“It’s so quiet here.” he whispered breaking her trail of thought.

“It’s beautiful.” she replied spinning slowly to take in the whole garden.

He smiled at her, bright and warm and genuine. The sight of it sent heat flowing through her body.

“What are you thinking?” the words were sincere and interested.

“That I don’t want to go back.” she admitted.

His eyebrows arched in confusion.

“You don’t like weddings? Or Lucien?” he guessed.

“I love them both. I just don’t like crowds. I prefer small affairs.”

That breath-taking smile he wore grew larger.

“You would have loved my Aunts Mor and Elain’s wedding. It was very small. And with only one family fight.” he chuckled.

“It sounds perfect.” she smiled back.

His face lit up when he spoke of his family, the sight charmed her. Looking at him now, she couldn’t believe the tales that she had grown up hearing. The ones that were about the sinister ruling family of the Night Court with their cruel and wicked ways. Nothing about this male seemed threatening let alone menacing. If anything he was slightly awkward.

“What are you thinking?” she blurted, hoping to see joy on his face again.

“That I can feel something between us, and that I don’t know what it is but I want to know you. Know everything about you.”

She blushed at his honesty.  But that was all it took. Sprawling on the grass the two began to talk about themselves. They talked about their lives and their interests. Their homes and the places they wanted to visit. They talked and talked until the sun began to drop in the sky and an overwhelming sense of dread started to fill Kelda.

 _Her father_ she remembered. He had been looking for her before they had left. Would be beside himself looking for her now. It wouldn’t take long she realised, for him to come and look for her. She was surprised he hadn’t looked here first. But if he saw them leave – if he had seen them leave together. She stopped the image before it began to form in her head. What had she done? She had left with a male, and not just any male, a male from a court her father distrusted entirely. Without thinking, she reached her hand out to grab his. Her palms slick with sweat but she still held his firmly. Those remarkable eyes fixed on her, worrying plainly marked on his face. A shot of electricity, like a lightning strike, shot through her at the contact. With a start she became aware that it was the first time they had touched, the first day they had met. Being with him, it felt familiar and comfortable and right. It was not a feeling she wanted to give up yet, but she knew, knew she had to leave now. Before things erupted. If they hadn’t already.

“I have to go.” her voice was small, sadder than she had thought.

He squeezed her hand more tightly, a silent plea.

“I have to.” she repeated.

He rose to his feet, guiding him with her. He released her hand to cup her face gently, so heartbreakingly gently.

“I will see you again Kelda.”

Taking a small step forward, she closed the gap between them. The scent, his scent of jasmine and wind enveloped her. She looked up at him, his eyes were full of sadness and longing, and brushed her lips against his. When he didn’t pull away or push her, her hand reached up to the back of his head, her fingers entwining with his silken, ravens feather hair. His mouth opened to her and she deepened the kiss. It consumed her wholly.

The kiss was urgent and hard. With every stroke of her tongue against his something in her, a tether that tied her to him, strengthened. He pulled away slightly, gasping for breath.

“Do you feel that?” his voice came out is rasps.

She nodded, resting her forehead against his.

“Is this?”

She nodded again. She didn’t need him to continue to know what he meant.  _Mating bond._  The words echoed in her head, throbbed in her pulse, ran through her veins.  _Mate, mate, mate._  It said. Every inch of her body felt connected to him.

“I have to go.” she said detaching herself from him.

The words stung her but they were true. She did have to leave - wars had been started over less she knew.

“I will see you again I promise.”

Before he could straighten his thoughts, could say anything to her, she had burst into a ball of light and that beautiful bird was soaring through the sky.

“Until the next time.” he said the spot where she had just been.


	5. Chapter 5

Ice plunged through Feyre’s veins. Whilst it was true she had seen her son leave the wedding, seen him leave with Tamlin and Vassa’s daughter, she had also seen that girl leave first. _Where the hell was he._ Rhysand stood behind her, leaning against the wall his face the definition of calm and composed. If it weren’t for his roaring down the bond she would have believed that unruffled demeanour too. Tamlin paced anxiously before her, every turn he took made Feyre more furious. 

“Tamlin sit down.” Vassa pleaded rubbing her eyes.

“He took her.”

“She left first, we both saw it.” Feyre interjected, venom lacing her words.

“And whose idea do you think it was?” He pointed a finger harshly at Feyre.

“I suggest Tamlin” Rhys said inspecting his nails “That if you want to keep that hand you remove it from my wife’s face.”

Tamlin whirled on him.

“Your son is just as despicable as you are.”

“Tamlin, stop.” Vassa spoke again “You heard Feyre, Kelda left first. And honestly, have you ever known her to do something she didn’t want to do?”

“Yes well, who did she get that from?” He accused his wife.

Vassa stalked from the small room that Lucien had showed them to when they had started to make a scene.

“May I remind you all that your children are missing.” Lucien said sternly.

“You don’t think I know that.” Tamlin growled at his friend.

“Cassian and Azriel will find them.” Rhys reassured the room.

Feyre knew it was true. Wherever they are Azriel would hunt them down, and cauldron help Arvan when he did.

“The real question here is” Rhys continued “why they left together at all.”

The room fell silent. All that could be heard was their breathing and heartbeats. _Why had they left together_ Feyre wondered. She hadn’t even thought of it. She hadn’t thought past the rantings and ravings and accusatory tone of Tamlin and his suffocating anger. Didn’t he realise that her son was missing too? That he was not the only on worried?

“Do you think they want to know what we haven’t told them? Maybe they’re trying to piece together a history we’ve hidden?” She mused aloud.

“I can’t lose her. I can’t not see her again.” Tamlin whispered.

And there was the truth of it. The truth, which for two centuries, none of them had admitted. That Tamlin had lost something he loved before, lost it to the Night Court, lost it to Rhys.

“They’ll find them Tam.” Lucien clamped a hand to his friends shoulder.

Vassa returned, a tray of hot cocoa in her hands. She strode past her husband, offering first to Feyre and Rhysand.

“And you warriors are skilled in this sort of thing?” She asked, her usually bright voice spiked with worry.

“The best.” Rhys told her. “I promise you Vassa, they’ll bring your daughter home.”

“So I can kill her myself.” She joked, though her sapphire eyes were numb. “Right, now I know that something happened between you” she gestured to Tamlin, Rhys and Feyre individually “and I’ve never asked, I’ve never wanted to know. But you three are going to talk and you’re going to tell me everything. If there’s something going on here that is affecting our children I need to know”

Tamlin looked sheepish but he began, he told her everything, of his and Rhys’ families, of under the mountain, of the disastrous wedding, of locking Feyre up, of Hybern, everything. Rhys and Feyre spoke up here and there, offering their personal accounts of each tale. When they had finished Vassa stared at them all.

“So you knew she was your mate?” She looked at Rhys. “And you locked her up?” She looked at Tamlin. “And you bottled up your emotions after throwing yourself into danger?” She looked at Feyre. “And you,” she turned on Lucien “you did nothing at all.”

Lucien, at least had the nerve to look abashed.

“All of you need to stop this.” Vassa sounded weary and tired “You are arguing over centuries old family feuds you were unwittingly dragged into, over Queens that were sadistic and cruel, over feelings of fear that showed themselves in the wrong way, over a beautiful mating bond that couldn’t be helped. And now, now you’re arguing over our children when they have both willingly left us for cauldron knows where.”

Her words sank in as the four of them looked at each other. No apologies were needed Feyre realised, they had all done something wrong, all hurt each other in some way.  All of this was ridiculous, this rivalry was pointless. Feyre had left Tamlin, but he had also given Rhys back his life. There was no need for this pressure anymore, for the bitter words and sneers.

It was as if a weight had been lifted on the room. Vassa had unknowingly eased almost a millennia’s worth of tension. It was like breathing after being under water for too long.

“We can’t stop them being friends. They’re probably the only two heirs that haven’t met each other yet. It would be detrimental to our lands to force our prejudices on to them.” Rhys said.

“We shouldn’t. They should know each other. They should be cordial to one another.” Tamlin added.

The words shocked Feyre. Had he truly gotten over what had passed between them? After all this time could wounds begin to heal?

Now they just needed to know where those damn brats had gone. _He’s twenty_ Feyre reminded herself.

_Older than you were when you went under the mountain_ Rhys said down the bond.

Mor entered the room, a wry smile plastered across that devastating face. She was flanked by Cassian and Azriel.

“What’s happened?” Tamlin demanded.

“Oh you’re going to love this.” Mor shot him a menacing look.

“I found them” Az cut in.

Vassa placed a hand over her heart, the relief evident on her face.

“Where are they?” Feyre asked

“Arvan is at Lucien’s house. The girl shifted before winnowing. But I overheard her say she was going home.”

“Thank-you.” Tamlin said, gratitude clear in his voice. “Truly, thank-you.”

He extended a hand to Azriel who took it in his own brutally scared one.

“Sorry about today Lucien.” Tamlin said before taking Vassa in his arms and winnowing away.

Mor was still smiling, it was knowing and edged with dark humour.

“What is it?” Rhys asked.

“You’re little babies we’re getting a little bit _intimate._ ” She emphasised the last word.

Rhys and Feyre groaned.

“Tamlin is going to try and kill him.” Feyre said, placing her head in her hands.

“Not if I get there first.” Rhys announced.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kelda, now at home, runs into some unexpected news.

_Come, gentle night; come, loving, black browed night._

Kelda lazed by the lake near her manor home which had become her prison. She would never forget her father’s face the day of Lucien’s wedding. She had made it home before the hunt for her and Arvan had begun, but the heartbreak and betrayal that shone in her father’s eyes, those eyes that were so much like her own, destroyed her. Tamlin had considered creating magic boarders around the manor until her mother protested so vehemently that Kelda promised to stay in the surrounding area just so they wouldn’t fight. This was a decision she regretted. Whilst her body was firmly placed on the beautiful meadows of the Spring Court her mind was somewhere else, with someone else. Shaking her head she tried to push Arvan from her thoughts, it was impossible. She hadn’t dared to tell either of her parents about their revelation. Her father knew her well enough to know that any promise made was not taken lightly would always be upheld. She cursed her own honour to the listening wind, praying that it would travel away with the breeze. It didn’t and she was stuck here, dreaming of a day she could see him again, her Mate. The overwhelming urge to leave filled her entire being, she could understand how wars had been started over mating bonds. The distance felt unbearable and the bond hadn’t even been accepted by the two. Her mind pondered the thought of accepting the bond. Cauldron knows she couldn’t cook anything if her life depended on it. Her talents involved her wit and her fists. She supposed she could serve soup, that seemed simple enough. Her red hair sprawled out around her as she lay in the grass absorbing the afternoon sun. She did not know how long she laid there, her head running wild with the different scenarios of her and Arvan’s next meeting. She had already firmly decided there was going to be a next meeting. Letting the peace of the meadow wash over her she wondered if he was thinking about her too. Silly notion, she thought. Of course he was. She knew she must have made an impression and they were Mates after all, she scoffed at her own nonsense doubts. Startled slightly, Kelda sat up, the feeling of being watched loomed over her. Slowly rising to her feet, she saw a set of glowing eyes leering from the bushes the other side of the lake. Knowing all of her father’s subjects, and knowing that nothing nasty lurked in these parts since the war, Kelda mustered enough courage to call upon the figure.

“I see you, you know?” She called obnoxiously.

Nothing. Silence.

“If you’re going to lurk in the bushes at least let me know who you are, you’re being quite rude you know.” She said.

Still nothing.

With a huff, she removed her emerald green cloak preparing to stalk into the water after the damned thing. She fell to her knees as something whooshed past her, knocking her out of the way. Crouching before her, bundled in her cloak was the most grotesque creature she had ever seen.

Milky white eyes protruding from a grim skeletal face stared at her. It smiled, the elongated teeth jutting jaggedly from dirt black gums.

“You’re a Suriel.” Kelda blurted.

The creature nodded slowly, it’s hunchback bending unnaturally with the movement.

“And you have taken my cloak, therefore I demand you tell me something in return and I know you cannot lie.”

The Suriel looked slightly perplexed at the boldness of Kelda, as if it weren’t used to being spoken too. This in turn confused Kelda, surely everyone wanted to speak to a Suriel, she knew her father had been trying to capture on for years.

“Can you speak?” Kelda asked.

It nodded again, which infuriated Kelda.

“Fine,” she began “Arvan, the son of the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court.”

“Your Mate.” The Suriel said in an unnerving voice. “The prince of darkness is your Mate.” It continued as if revealing a deep secret.

“Yes I know that. I wasn’t born under a rock. Wait you can’t cross water. Mother told me as much.”

This made the Suriel double take, Kelda almost laughed at the sight. She had heard a great deal about the ancient beings, she hadn’t expected it to be so…theatrical.

“I can’t cross running water.”

She nodded, understanding.

“Anyway, I was saying before you rudely interrupted me.”

The Suriel tapped its withered fingers together annoyed, the noise of bone hitting bone filled the air.

“I’m older than Prythian itself child, I’m to be feared not mocked.” It scolded.

Kelda scoffed.

“If you have to tell people you need to be feared, it negates the need for fear. Anyway, you seem very approachable to me. Besides, you have appeared to have stolen a very nice garment from me.”

It’s eyes widened at the chiding. Never in its long existence had an immortal deemed to tell it off. It liked this girl.

“One question.” It said.

Kelda beamed.

“Wonderful. So Arvan, am I to see him again?”

She tried to keep the excitement from her voice. She failed.

“Your fates are twined together child. You will meet again.”

It’s voice was the sky and the ground, the air and the sea, it was everything around her and she knew that she could believe it. Her smile widened.

“Excellent.” She mused to herself.

“But,” The creature started.

Kelda shivered, she hated ‘buts’.

“To avoid tragedy child, you must avoid you mate.”

Her mouth opened and closed. Before the words could formulate the Suriel was gone. Leaving her only with her dread and unease. What exactly had it meant?


	7. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arvan and Cassian bond.

_Well, in that hit you miss. She'll not be hit_   
_With Cupid's arrow. She hath Dian's wit,_   
_And, in strong proff of chastity well armed,_   
_From Love's weak childish bow she lives uncharmed._

Pain lanced through Arvan’s jaw as Cassian’s fist viciously connected with it.

“Kid, where’s your head?” Cassian asked without sympathy.

His head was the other side of Prythian, in the Spring Court to be precise, but Arvan wasn’t about to admit that here. They had known who he was with the day of Lucien and Briar’s wedding, but he had only told Elain of the bond that now consumed his every hour.

“I’m sorry” He said to Cassian.

The winged male scoffed.

“Don’t apologise to me. It’s your face kid.”

Instinctively Arvan’s hand drifted up to his cheek and the bruise he knew was beginning to form there. He didn’t notice the pain as his thoughts turned to that meadow, the whisper of her kiss still lingered on his mouth.

 _Stupid, stupid, stupid._ Arvan thought to himself. The silent rage that filled his mother’s eyes when arrived back in the Night Court after the wedding let him know this was stupid, the reminder from Azriel that too much had transpired between the Courts let him know this was stupid, the declaration from Elain when she told him that love could conquer all let him know he couldn’t give up hope no matter how stupid.

“Hands up.” Cassian barked at him.

Too late. Cassian’s blow knocked his head sideways and his knees buckled from the shock.

“Shit, kid.”

Grasping Cassian’s outstretched hand, Arvan straightened himself again.

“You’ve got to focus, Arvan. If I beat your ass too much Nesta is going to beat my ass.” Cassian said laughing.

Stretching his neck Arvan tried to focus on the task at hand, at the steps that were second nature to him now but he couldn’t. His thoughts kept returning to Kelda, to the brief moment he had shared with her, to the promise she had made that they would see each other again. Weeks, it had been weeks since he had seen her but her image was still crystal clear in his mind.

“I can’t do this.” Cassian exclaimed, “It’s like punching a dead cow, you’re not doing anything.”

“Sorry.” Was all Arvan could say.

He knew he needed to train, but he couldn’t get her out of his hand. He wanted to know what she was doing right now, wanted to know if she was thinking of him.

“What’s on your mind, kid?” Cassian asked, breaking his trail of thought.

Arvan felt his cheeks flush and he saw a grin slowly spread across Cassian’s knowing face.

“A girl.” The Illyrian taunted.

“The girl.”

Cassian looked confused at this, cocking his head to the side he gestured for Arvan to elaborate.

“We Mated. Well no, we didn’t Mate, but the bond, we both felt it.” The words tumbled out.

Cassian swore. His hazel eyes roamed Arvan’s face searching for the sign that this was a joke. He swore again.

“Shit, kid. What happened?”

Arvan told him everything, from the initial meeting, to the bond, to the kiss. Gaping at him slightly, Cassian put a hand on his shoulder. The pressure anchored him to the moment as his mind drifted to _her_ again.

“She’s the heir to the Spring Court, Arvan.” He said quietly.

“I know.”

“And you have your duties here.” He continued.

“I know.”

“And you love her?”

Arvan considered this. He barely knew the female but she was etched into his mind, burning like a star. She was fiery and fierce and stubborn and incredible.

“I will.” He murmured.

“Then I’m going to help you get her.”

Stunned, Arvan looked up at Cassian, the males face was kind and held none of the arrogance he showed others.

“I fell in love once kid, and I left it far too long to do anything about it. It hurt us both.”

Arvan blinked, he had only ever known his uncle of sorts be with Nesta, he hadn’t considered that he may have had another partner.

“What happened?” He asked.

“She kicked my ass one day and we never looked back.”

“Wait, Aunt Nesta? But you two are perfect together.”

Cassian laughed.

“We are now, it wasn’t always plain sailing, kid. That’s a story for another day. For now we’ve got to get you ready for the Spring Court.”


End file.
